The Snatcher
by Die.Hayan
Summary: His face twisted into a taunting smirk and suddenly he was shoving her away. She tumbled to the forest floor, her breath escaping her and her eyes widening in shock. He twirled his wand around in his fingers, eyeing her like she were prey. "Run, Granger," he whispered, gray eyes and blonde hair wild. She ran. And he chased her again. A Dramione Short Story- check out the sequel!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **I was merely writing this story for fun as a side project while I work on my full length fanfiction ( _His Mental State_ ). Check it out if you want, it's another Dramione.**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

 _ **Important Announcement:**_

 **If you're looking for a fun story where Draco turns to the light side and Hermione saves his soul and they fall madly in love with each other, turn around. You won't find that in this story.**

* * *

 _"A warning to the people,_  
 _the good and the evil,_  
 _this is war."_

 _~Thirty Seconds To Mars_

* * *

He stood completely still, listening to the dull thud as Nagini fell from the dining hall table onto the ground. He could feel the amount of eyes on his back, staring him down mercilessly, and he gripped his hand into a fist at his side, wishing desperately for his wand.

Draco knew that standing somewhere behind him, a pair of those eyes belonged to his mother. He wanted to turn to her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay, but he knew better than that. Everything was not going to be okay. He'd be lucky if he was to live another day.

His breath caught in his throat when Nagini bumped against his left foot, sliding slowly towards the fireplace that Draco was told to stand in front of over an hour ago. Nobody had moved since then, save for Nagini's restless movements.

A flash of green flames lit up the fireplace, flooding warmth across Draco's face, and the nightmare himself entered the room. Cold, uncaring eyes landed immediately on Draco, who stiffened and swallowed the hard lump in his throat. Despite the chill in the room, he could feel himself beginning to sweat.

"You are a fool," the Dark Lord hissed, though his attention was no longer on Draco. His eyes like slits were looking at a spot somewhere over Draco's left shoulder, and he forced himself not to glance about and see who had gotten the Dark Lord's attention.

"He wasn't going to do it himself, my lord," Severus spoke, his drawling tone sounding steady and bored.

"Then he should have died."

Him. They were talking about him.

Draco's eyes snapped up to meet the Dark Lord's and a shiver ran down his spine. This was it. This was how he was going to die. At the Dark Lord's feet in the dining hall of his childhood home, with his mother watching somewhere behind him. He had been trying to make peace with this idea for the past hour as he stood lifeless in front of the fireplace, but a small part of him was still gripping to the small hope that he might make it out of this alive.

He unfurled his fist and curled it back up again, as though if he did this enough times his wand might miraculously appear between his slender fingertips.

"Professor Dumbledore is, in any case, dead." Severus continued boldly. "Perhaps Draco can be of use to us in some other way."

The Dark Lord sucked in a harsh breath, anger flashing behind his deadly eyes. He didn't seem very fond of this idea in the slightest. Nagini curled herself around his feet, rising slowly until she reached the height of his hips. Her tongue slithered out expectantly at him. He glanced down at her, momentarily distracted, reaching a hand down and touching the top of her head with his long, yellowed fingernails.

He seemed deep in thought, though he still held onto his anger viciously, and everyone in the room remained breathless and on their toes.

Draco didn't know how much time had passed before the Dark Lord was moving again, slowly advancing towards him.

He stopped in front of the young blonde, pulling a long object from his pocket as though procuring it from thin air. Draco's eyes immediately landed on his wand longingly, and he felt himself begin to shake with apprehension. Killed by his own wand, now that was a new form of torture all in itself.

He tried to control himself, feeling his nerves beginning to over take him and making him shake, before he licked his lips nervously and forced his eyes back up to the Dark Lord.

"Is this your wand, Draco?" The Dark Lord cooed dangerously.

He barely nodded, afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. His whole family was walking on eggshells, and he'd rather not be on the receiving end of a Crutiantis curse from his own wand.

"And would you like to have it back?"

The dark tone in his lord's voice made him falter slightly. He wanted his wand back more than anything; his fingers itched to touch the wood and feel his magic curl up his arm and into his body. He hesitated a moment too long.

"Answer me when I am speaking to you!"

"Yes," Draco croaked out instantly, grimacing in fear and clutching his hands into tight fists by his sides, eyeing the wood again.

The Dark Lord chuckled- a twisted, animalistic sound that came from the back of his throat, before he turned about the room, twirling Draco's wand slowly in his fingers.

"Where have they gone?"

Nobody answered him, and it took Draco a moment to realize that he was still only addressing him. His eyebrows pulled together in slight confusion.

"Sir?" He asked uncertainly.

"Harry Potter and his friends!" The Dark Lord snapped, rounding on Draco with lightning speed. Nagini raised her head, hissing in Draco's direction for causing her master such distress. He could've sworn he heard his mother whimper somewhere off in the distance, but it was much too quiet to make it out properly.

"I don't know," Draco answered truthfully, letting his gaze shudder down to the tips of his black dress shoes.

A 'clank' echoed through out the dining hall and Draco watched as his wand rolled across the floor and stopped with a gentle nudge to the tip of his shoe. He stared at it for a long moment, refusing to believe that he'd be able to pick it up without consequences. This had to be another test.

He glanced up at the Dark Lord through the fringe of his blonde hair.

The Dark Lord was looking at him expectantly, and Draco drew a hesitant breath before slowly bending his knees and lowering himself to the ground. His eyes snapped over to Nagini, whose tongue darted out dangerously as she wobbled back and forth, watching him with black marbles for eyes.

Perhaps this was a trick to get him unbalanced and at a disadvantage before the Dark Lord commanded Nagini to attack him. He hesitated only a moment, trying to decipher her movements, before he touched the wand with trembling fingertips. He waited for Nagini to lunge at him but she never did, merely watching him with those eyes that reminded him so much of her master's.

He could feel the magic pricking at his finger tips before he gripped the long piece of wood, standing to his feet and curling his fingers possessively around it.

The Dark Lord was staring at him and he had no idea what to do with himself. His heart pounded a moment in reluctant hope. He couldn't think himself lucky enough to get away without any sort of punishment; he had failed his mission.

And then the Dark Lord's lipless mouth moved.

" _Find them_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

* * *

Hermione sighed as she followed after Harry and Ron, forcing herself not to trip over any fallen branches or tricky rocks hiding in wait under the fallen leaves of the forest.

Ron was in one of his bad moods since they had missed two meals that day, and he had been stuck with the duty of wearing the Horcrux all day.

Hermione and Harry tried to steer clear of his anger, keeping their conversations to a minimal and never making eye contact with the moody red head. The sun was beginning to set, though Harry didn't seem to show any signs of slowing down.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Ron spit out angrily from behind them, grinding his teeth together as he tripped over yet another downed branch that had sneaked up on him.

Hermione winced at his tone, chancing a glance over at Harry. The raven-haired boy seemed to be ignoring everything around them, clenching his fists over and over again in agitation. They kept moving, and Hermione had to force herself not to sigh sadly.

She missed the days when the three of them would talk about plans, or chat enthusiastically about something that didn't matter anymore in the thick of war in order to pass the time. However, those days were long behind them, and now they lived in the present of day-long silent hikes and spiteful arguments over nothing in particular.

She was growing weary, feeling slightly weak from her lack of food consumption that day, and she raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose against a growing headache.

"Maybe we should stop for the night," she whispered to Harry, hoping he would agree and not daring to look behind her to see if Ron was glaring daggers at them for 'keeping secrets' from him- again.

Harry hesitated for a moment, glancing up at the sky, before he nodded, pulling to a stop and clenching his teeth together, his jaw stiffening.

"Alright Ron, we're stopping for the night." He said, trying to sound patient as Ron pulled up beside them.

Ron snorted in an uncharacteristically rude manner, rolling his eyes and hiking his bag further up onto his uninjured shoulder.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, his shoulders locking into place and his eyes glaring at the red-head behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

Ron glared back at him but said nothing in return, shifting under the boy's intense gaze.

Hermione quickly pushed her beaded bag into Harry's hands, desperate to avoid another argument. "Here, set up the tent," she said before she wandered towards the edges of the small clearing, pulling out her wand.

She could hear Ron muttering something under his breath, followed by a loud grumble of his stomach, before he surprisingly set down his load and began to help Harry set up the tent for the night.

Hermione tried to ignore Ron's sudden desire to help, though she couldn't help the small spin of happiness in her stomach, before turning her attention back to her spells. She focused, casting concealment charms and protective barriers around them, working her way slowly around the camp site and making sure to be thorough. It had been quite some time since they had been spotted by anyone dangerous, and she was determined to keep it that way.

She had just finished placing the last concealment charm when something dropped right at her feet. She jumped slightly, barely keeping herself from calling out, watching the acorn roll through the leaves and stop just outside her protective enchantments.

She glanced around the area quickly, noting that the setting sun in the distance was casting disfigured shadows among the trees that messed with her eyes. She squinted, trying hard to make out any campers or wandering muggle teens or, worse case scenario, Death Eaters, but she couldn't see anything. She glanced up at the tree tops and watched a squirrel flick its' tail, staring down longingly at the acorn by her feet before turning and disappearing off down the trunk and deeper into the forest.

She let her shoulders relax, almost laughing at herself for worrying so much. She was stressed and paranoid and she needed to lay down; maybe munch on some stale crackers to keep her stomach from twisting up.

She walked back towards where Harry and Ron had finished setting up the tent.

Harry was sitting outside, starting a fire in a small circle of rocks by the tent's entrance. He had become quite good at fire spells lately.

Hermione didn't need to ask to know that Ron had already retired inside.

She settled herself down by Harry, leaning herself against the trunk of a tree and sighing under her breath.

"You can go in and rest if you want to," Harry said and Hermione turned her gaze to look at him. He tried offering a comforting smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. She caught sight of the Horcrux hanging from his neck. "I'm not that tired, really, I'll take first watch."

She hesitated a moment, biting her lip to keep herself from yawning. It was clear in Harry's voice that he wanted to be alone, but he didn't want to tell her so. The two of them not fighting was the only thing holding their small group together. She stretched her arms over her head before she nodded, standing to her feet and brushing off the leaves from her pants.

"Come wake me up in two hours, okay?" she said, hoping that he would actually listen to her this time instead of letting her sleep in.

He nodded his head absentmindedly, pushing dry leaves into the small flame, before she hurried inside the tent.

Ron had taken the top bunk in one of the two small rooms and was already snoring away. She thought about waking him and asking him if he was alright from their harsh day on the road but decided against it, relishing in the peace of comfortable silence.

She crawled into the bottom bunk under Ron, though she wasn't sure why when there was a single bed in the other room totally unoccupied. She supposed she missed being close with him, since none of them seemed to be great pals at the moment.

She hesitated before reaching a hand up and brushing her fingertips against the knuckle of his hand that hung down from the top bunk.

"Mione..?" a sluggish voice asked from above.

Hermione felt her cheeks tint, but she refused to snatch her hand back, instead drawing imaginary patterns on Ron's knuckles in the dark.

"Yes?"

"What'reyoudoin'?" he grumbled out, fighting against the pulls of sleep.

Hermione's fingers stilled on his knuckles. "Do you want me to stop?" She didn't know why she was so afraid of his answer, biting her lip and waiting with baited breath.

He shifted onto his side, his hand falling further down towards her.

"'sfine" he murmured into his pillow. The sound of his light snores following afterwards told her that he had succumbed to sleep, and she smiled a little bit, lacing her fingers through his gently and closing her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

* * *

The sun was finally setting in the horizon, casting shadows in between the trees in the forest that he did not know the name of. He did know, however, that sunset meant that it was time for them to pick a spot to stop for the night, which would put an end to Weasley's grumblings.

Draco had been tracking them for days, watching them argue among themselves and then fall into tense silences. It was agonizing knowing that they were so close, and yet never having the right opportunity.

He itched to grab them the moment his group set eyes on them a few weeks ago. But he knew he couldn't snatch them just yet. He couldn't risk being careless, not when the Dark Lord had actually given him another chance even after his grave failure.

He gripped his wand tight in his fingers and ducked low into the brush, catching his breath and holding up a hand to silence the mutterings of the three other men that accompanied him. He did not know their names, nor did he care to ever find out. They were gruff, disgusting men who had been hired to work for the Dark Lord as Snatchers since the death of Dumbledore, and they did not even know the significance of who it was that they had been tracking the past few weeks.

Draco watched from the shadows while Granger wandered slowly about the small clearing, her wand raised and her lips moving as though she were speaking incantations, though he could not hear any noise.

One of the men shifted beside him, a disheveled looking bloke with rotting teeth and a scar down his left cheek. He leaned over Draco's shoulder, murmuring in his ear, "What's she doin'?"

Draco shuddered visibly as the man's foul breath drifted towards his nostrils. If he wasn't so focused, he would have been both repulsed and terrified of the three scoundrel he was forced to work with. They all had a price over their heads for failing the Dark Lord in some way or another, but that was the only thing they had in common.

He didn't bother answering the man, relaxing when he finally moved away and settled back onto the balls of his feet when it was clear that Draco was going to ignore him. He forced himself to concentrate on Granger, watching her with curious eyes as she waved her wand in a slow X before moving onto a spot only a few steps away.

He glanced around him, briefly catching the hungry look in one of the man's eyes as he watched Granger pass by their hiding place.

He picked up a stick by his foot, testing the weight in his hand, before he dropped it and moved the leaves aside.

"What are you-"

"Shut up," Draco hissed under his breath, startling himself with his own confidence to speak against a man twice his size. But the other Death Eater promptly closed his mouth, probably remembering whose son it was that he was working with, and Draco continued his search through the undergrowth. Finally, his fingers closed around a small object and he tested its weight in the palm of his hand, rolling it around with a thoughtful expression as he turned his attention back to Granger.

She waved her wand once more and he extended his arm back, throwing the acorn in her direction. He watched it land with precision at her feet, rolling towards her and stopping just a centimeter short.

She looked down at it, startled, but she didn't move to pick it up. He watched her scan the area and then glance up into the trees. It was then that he saw it. With the sun setting, the shimmer of magic looked mystical as it slowly encased her, and she seemed to vanish into thin air.

"Concealment charms," Draco muttered to himself, rolling his wand slowly around in his fingertips.

"What does that mean?" A Death Eater asked, looking incredulous at the spot where the trio's camp had once been, now hidden behind the concealment of magic.

"She's put up a force around the camp, to keep them hidden, and to keep intruders out," he mused, watching the spot he had last seen her as though he could break the magic barrier with his mind alone.

"Great," a portly man grumbled, falling back onto his haunches. "Now how are we supposed to get to them?"

Draco sucked in a breath, closing his eyes and forcing his mind back to his days in the Hogwart's classrooms. Back before all of this had happened, and things had gotten so bad he didn't think there was anyway to fix them.

"What is he doin', takin' a nap?" one of the Death Eater's whispered, and Draco knew they were talking about him.

"He's loony I tell ya, just like his good for nothin' father."

There was a rustling of leaves and he knew the Death Eaters were settling in for a long night of waiting. He clenched his hands into fists on his knees, forcing himself to block out the man's comment and focus.

He could remember charms class with Professor Flitwick, and Granger's annoying inability to not answer every question. He could vaguely remember in fifth year that Granger had been spouting a bit of useless knowledge about concealment charms, and their ability to not only conceal people, but large areas as well.

 _"Very good, Ms. Granger! Someone has been doing their homework, and reading their text I see!" Professor Flitwick squeaked from his mountain of books. "I don't suppose you could tell us how to break a concealment charm, can you?"_

 _"Well sir, Aparecium is a spell generally used to make invisible things, visibly. I suspect if a wizard were strong enough, they'd be able to use this spell to lift most concealment charms."_

 _"Well done, Ms. Granger! 10 points to Gryffindor!"_

Draco's grey eyes opened and he tightened his grip on his wand.

The sun had set behind the mountains in the distance, and the dark of night had almost fully settled in. His legs felt numb and he wondered for a moment how long he had sat there, lost in thought.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the men behind him, and started towards the last place he had seen Granger standing. He settled down beside a tree, glancing at the acorn that sat innocently at the barrier of Granger's concealment barrier.

He raised his wand, pointing it towards the acorn, before dragging it upwards. He could see the shiver of magic from Granger's charm at the tip of his wand, and a slow smirk crawled onto his lips.

 _Not so smart now, are you Granger?_

" _Aparecium_ ," he whispered under his breath. He watched the shivering of the magic as it lulled back and forth in swirls around the tip of his wand, and suddenly, as though looking through a pin-prick in space, he caught sight of a small fire.

The pin-prick grew, and Draco held his breath when Potter came into view, sitting outside the tent huddled in a jacket by the fire.

Draco kept his eyes on Potter, waiting to see if the Boy-Who-Won't-Die noticed any difference in the environment around him. When Potter neither looked up nor pulled out his wand, Draco turned his attention back to the Death Eaters behind him. They were all looking at him, already on their feet and waiting for him to tell them it was time to attack.

They had been tracking the trio for weeks now, and all of their time with the Dark Lord's patience was ticking. It was now or it would be never.

Draco pursed his lips, turned his eyes back to Potter, and nodded curtly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

* * *

Harry stiffened when he felt it. It was like a shift in the wind, subtle but noticeable. He stared at the flames bouncing up from the fire pit, watching as it flickered and changed directions in the slightest of ways. A breeze that hadn't been there before.

He scowled, feeling for the wand that he knew sat in his pocket. His fingertips touched the wood when he heard it; the slight rustle of leaves.

His eyes shot up from the fire, glancing around the clearing slowly. It could've just been a bird, or another small woodland animal roaming around in the dark. The change in breeze could be natural. But he felt on edge, like someone was watching him.

He slowly stood to his feet, gripping his wand in his fingertips, yet not drawing it. He clenched his teeth, flexing his jaw and letting his eyes roam around in the dark.

It was hard to see anything past the amber glow of the fire, but he could've sworn he saw movement to his left.

And then a voice. _That_ voice.

"Pleasant evening, Potter?"

He whirled around to his right, yanking his wand from his pocket and pointing it towards the direction where he saw the blonde haired boy standing. Malfoy seemed so relaxed, leaning the shoulder of his black suit against a tree's trunk, twirling his own wand slowly around his fingertips, as though he were bored with the conversation.

"Still alive? I was sure You-Know-Who would've killed you after you failed to do his bidding," Harry spit, his anger rising quickly. This was the boy who had allowed Death Eaters into the castle, with the intent on killing Dumbledore. His knuckles turned white with the pressure he was forcing onto his wand.

A look crossed Malfoy's features. It was quick, and it could've been a trick of the light, but Harry was sure he had seen it. Malfoy was angry. Perhaps he didn't like the fact that his failure was being brought up. Perhaps Harry had hit a nerve.

"Worried about my well being, are you Potter? You shouldn't be," Malfoy's voice was sneering, though he was doing an excellent job of keeping his features completely blank. "You should be worried about yours."

Another snapping twig, and Harry's eyes shifted to his left, noting the broad man that stepped into the clearing. And then another coming from his right, somewhere behind the tent that Ron and Hermione slept in, completely oblivious.

"How did you-"

"Get past Granger's concealment charms?" This time, a sneer flitted across Malfoy's features and he snorted ruthlessly. "She isn't the only student who got all Outstandings on her O.W.L's."

Harry pursed his lips tight together.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

A devious smirk came to the pale boy's features, but not the kind of smirk that he normally wore when he was about to get them into trouble at Hogwarts. This smirk was particularly horrible. Dark and sinister, like he had a brilliant plan locked up in that blonde head of his.

"You and your friends of course, Potter. You guys are the main prize in this game, didn't you know?"

Harry barely saw Malfoy's wand raise to point at him.

" _Hermione_! _Ron_!"

* * *

Hermione jerked awake, a feeling of dread filling her stomach as Harry's yells echoed in her ears. For a moment, she was sure she had dreamed it, until she saw Ron tumbling from the top bunk in a flurry of blankets and red hair.

"Was that-"

"Harry," Hermione breathed, throwing back her blankets and leaping up from the bed.

She grabbed her wand from her nightstand and hurried with Ron out through the front flap of the tent. She stopped short at the scene in front of her, her breath catching in her throat.

" _You_ ," Ron seethed, but Hermione wasn't paying attention to who the red head was glaring at. Her eyes were on Harry, the immobilized boy who was hanging upside down in the air. His glasses had fallen and, from the looks of it, his wand was gone.

"You slimy little git."

Hermione finally pulled her gaze away from Harry, noting the other men in the clearing. There were three of them, and one with incredibly familiar blonde hair.

Her eyes froze when she caught sight of Malfoy, standing casually a few feet from Harry's upturned form. He rolled two wands around in his fingers, as though debating which one would be better to torture them all with.

"Now, now, Weasle-bee, that's not exactly the proper way to speak to your superiors," Malfoy sneered, his eyes glinting dangerously off the flames of the fire.

"A weak, sniveling thing like you as my superior?" Ron growled, "Not bloody likely."

Malfoy stared them down for a moment, his eyes gazing from Ron to Hermione, before he finally said, "The Dark Lord only wants Potter. One of you take him back.. The rest of us are going to have a little fun teaching these two a lesson."

Hermione raised her wand but Malfoy was quick to copy her. One of the Death Eaters chuckled from the sidelines.

"She thinks she's powerful enough to cross wands with a pureblood. What are you sweetpea, a half-blood?" The man growled, his own wand held dangerously in his fingers.

"No," Malfoy spoke, a sneer of disgust coming to his features. "She's just a filthy _mudblood_."

Hermione clenched her teeth, and though she tried not to feel the sting, that word still hurt more than any other nasty insult he could have thrown at her.

"You tosser," Ron raised his wand.

"Ron, no!" Harry yelled, breaking free from a Silencing spell Hermione guessed. But it was too late.

A spell fired from the end of Ron's wand and Malfoy was quick to counter it, as though he had expected the red head to lose control before he did. The spell zipped sideways into the fire, exploding the little make shift pit and snuffing out the flames. The clearing was plunged into darkness.

"Well don't just stand there," Malfoy's voice yelled through the darkness. "Snatch them!"

There was the shuffling of movement and Hermione darted to the left to avoid a sudden attack that zipped over her shoulder, nearly bumping into Ron. They were all at a disadvantage in the dark.

A loud pop echoed through the clearing and Hermione felt her muscles freeze up in panic.

"Harry!" she screamed, just as another spell lit up the clearing. She ducked out of the way, trying her best to stay calm.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, a spell flying from his direction. "Hermione! Run!"

"What?" she screeched back, her mind still spinning from the prospect of losing Harry.

" _Run_!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

* * *

Draco couldn't believe his luck.

At the sound of the pop that told him that one of the Death Eaters had grabbed Potter and apparated, he felt a giddiness take over him. He had done it. He had succeeded his mission. The Dark Lord would be presented Potter in a matter of moments, and Draco would be the one to save his family from the depths of disgrace.

Pride swelled inside of him. It was a feeling, he mused, that he had never felt before in his life. Never before had he accomplished anything that would have made his father proud. But now, in this moment, he had done what he had been sent to do. He was going to soak up every moment of it.

Wealsey yelled at Granger to run, and Draco forced that feeling of pride down quickly. If he let either Weasley or Granger walk away from this alive, they were sure to send an enormous amount of stupidly brave Gryffindors running to save Potter. They would risk their lives for the boy who doesn't stand a chance.

"Don't let them get away!" he yelled, thrusting his wand up into the air. " _Lumos Maximus_!" A burst of light shot into the air, forming into a large ball that settled above them, acting as a second moon that shone light down into the clearing.

He could see Potter's glasses lying in the grass, and there were two other Death Eaters in the clearing with him. It was three against two, and Draco had them right where he wanted them.

For once, things would finally work out for him. For once, it wouldn't be about Potter and his stupid friends, it would be about _him_. He would get the fame he so rightly deserved.

One of the Death Eaters shot a spell towards Granger and she ducked out of the way, just as Weasley told her again to run and then shot a spell towards Draco. He easily dodged the red sparks that flew by him and collided into a tree, scattering bark outward.

Draco watched Granger hesitate, glancing around the clearing, probably looking for Potter. She looked towards Weasley, bit her lip, and then she was gone. Turning, she took off towards the tree line.

"Filthy mudblood!" one of the Death Eaters roared, firing a spell after her. It hit a tree and shattered the bark by her head but she never even faltered. She just kept running.

 _Twitchy little ferret, aren't you Malfoy?_

Draco sneered as the Death Eater went to race after her.

"No! She's mine!" he lunged himself towards the tree line, an anger so powerful fueling his legs to run faster than he ever thought possible.

He kept his eyes trained on her massive curls as they bounced at her shoulders with every step. She glanced back at him only for a moment, or perhaps she was looking for Weasley, before she turned forward and pushed herself faster.

 _At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent._

"Granger!" Draco yelled, a snarl gracing his features. He flung his wand arm forward, forgetting to think of a spell to use. A blast of undirected magic flew from the tip of his wand and hit the ground at her ankles.

She stumbled and went down, flinging her arms out to catch herself on her hands and knees.

He didn't slow his pace, rushing for her and kicking her hard in the side when he finally reached her. She grunted in pain, rolling onto her back and gasping for air, her wand lying in the dirt beside her.

He pointed his wand, sneering down at her panting form.

"Not so brilliant now, are you Granger?" he asked mockingly. His anger was uncontrollable when she had the audacity to glare up at him. He kicked her again, watching with satisfaction as her face twisted up with pain.

"What's wrong Granger, no more fight left in you? Here I was thinking you might actually make me break a sweat."

She didn't respond, her eyes squeezed shut tight and her arms clutching at her side. Draco faltered slightly. This was too easy. Why was this so _easy_? Why wasn't she cursing him? Fighting for her life? This was the girl who smacked him in the face in third year, what was wrong with her? The anger inside of him flared up. At her. For who she was and what she was. She was disgusting. Filth.

And yet she was always _better_ than him. How? How was it possible for such a disgusting creature to be better than him? He was pureblood. Some of the most powerful magical blood ran through his veins. He didn't _understand_.

He flung his leg back in frustration and kicked her again, sneering at her whimper of pain.

"This is pathetic," he whispered, reaching down and grabbing her by the front of her jumper, forgetting about the fact that he might combust into flames if he touched her unsanitary skin. He ripped her up to her feet, noting absently how impossibly light she was. He shook her hard, trying to gauge some type of reaction from her. Why wasn't she _doing_ anything?

"You're a weak, disgusting girl Granger, you know that?"

Suddenly her eyes flashed open, and past the tears that were brimming in her eyes, he could see it. The anger. The anger he felt inside of himself was reflecting in her eyes, bright and burning.

"Not as weak or disgusting as you are, Malfoy." She seethed at him.

His face twisted into a taunting smirk and suddenly he was shoving her away. She tumbled to the forest floor, her breath escaping her and her eyes widening in shock. He twirled his wand around in his fingers, eyeing her like she were prey.

"Run, Granger," he whispered darkly, gray eyes wild and his blond hair tousled from chasing her.

She hesitated only a moment, staring at him and gasping to catch her breath, before she rolled onto her stomach and forced herself up. She grabbed her wand and pushed herself off at a sprint.

He watched her go for a long moment, a smirk flitting across his features. And then he darted after her, flinging his wand and watching the mulch behind her fling upwards in a small explosion.

He would show her how much lesser she was than him. He would force her to understand what he had always known to be true; that she was nothing more than an imposter. That she was nothing more than a muggle. That she was nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes.

And then he would kill her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

* * *

Hermione had never felt like this before.

She had been scared before of course. It was impossible not to be scared sometimes when you hang out with Harry Potter. Death and despair seemed to follow the young wizard every where he went. But she had never felt like this before. Never before had she actually thought that she might die. And never did she ever imagine that she would die at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

But there he was, with that maniacal smirk and a glistening want in his eyes that craved for bloodshed. Her bloodshed. Her dirty, dirty blood.

She choked when she thought about this, nearly losing her footing again when the vision before her blurred with unshed tears. She never once thought that she would ever actually be scared of Malfoy, but she was. She was terrified of him.

Something in him had snapped, she was sure of it. Perhaps failing the mission had caused him to break. Or maybe he was simply desperate. Perhaps this was his last straw to fix his world and he was desperate to come out alive and on top.

She could hear him right behind her. He was so close that she was sure if he wanted to reach out and snag her, he could. His legs were longer, and he was more conditioned from Quidditch practices to help his stamina. She knew, in the back of her mind, that she didn't stand a chance of out running him.

And then she thought about Ron. She had left him back there in the clearing with two Death Eaters, and though she'd like to believe Ron was intelligent sometimes, he was injured and furious, which was never a good combination. She didn't believe that his head was clear enough to help him make rash decisions.

She felt fingers brush the back of her shirt and she shivered at the contact, squeaking out a yelp of surprise and pushing herself faster.

She jumped over a fallen tree and heard Malfoy's feet land somewhere behind her, always keeping pace with her.

In a state of panic, she flung her wand hand over her shoulder, thinking of any spell that came to mind first. She heard a grunt and chanced a glance over her shoulder. Malfoy had tumbled to the ground, a cut gaping open on the back of his wand hand. The look he gave her was murderous.

She turned back around, narrowly dodging a tree. She stumbled and tried to gain her footing again, feeling a knot starting to form painfully in her side.

She had no idea what she was meant to do; she had no plan of action. Ron was somewhere back in the clearing, Harry was probably with Voldemort, and Malfoy was chasing her with the intent of killing her.

She couldn't apparate for fear of leaving Ron for dead, and she couldn't stay for fear of leaving Harry for dead. She was completely torn.

A hand grabbed her ankle and she yelled out, crashing down to the forest floor once more. Her breath escaped her for the second time that night and she gasped for air, reaching for her wand.

Malfoy's dress shoe came into view, kicking her wand away from her reaching fingertips before rolling her forcefully onto her back. He pinned her arms down with his bony knees, his wand pointed dangerously at her neck. She could see the blood falling from the cut on his hand down his knuckles, sliding down his slenders fingers and dripping off.

A droplet of his blood landed on the base of her neck and she couldn't help the tears that began to spill down her cheeks. She was wandless, she was out of breath, and Malfoy's knees were beginning to dig into her skin. There was nothing she could do, she had never felt so helpless before in her life.

"Let me go," she tried to yell this with some bite, but it came out smothered by an accidental sob.

"Not even if you asked pretty please Granger," he was snarling down at her like a wolf having caught a rabbit, hungry to begin his feast. The point of his wand jabbed into the flesh under her chin and she turned her head away from it, squeezing her eyes shut and trying her hardest to knock him off.

Though as slender as he was, Malfoy's body barely budged under her attempts to escape. He merely sat there on his knees, pointing his wand into her neck and staring at her with such a look of hatred that she had never seen before. A hatred for her, she knew.

"What do you want!" She screamed up at him, a fresh batch of frustrated tears running down her cheeks. "If you're going to kill me then just do it Malfoy!"

She felt it more than she saw it. His whole body froze.

 _Do you think he would have done it? Draco?_

 _No... No he was lowering his wand._

He repositioned the grip on his wand and jabbed it harder into her neck. "Don't tempt me mudblood," he snarled, and she might have imagined that he looked a little uncomfortable all of a sudden.

She spit up at him, mustering all her anger and hatred towards the blonde into that simple act of defiance. His hand came back and he slapped her, hard.

She blinked to the side, trying to register what he had just done, and then she felt the hot sting on her cheek. He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "That's for third year."

She didn't dare move, her mind racing a mile a minute to try and find an escape. Malfoy leaned away from her ear and sat back, pressing down into her stomach, though the pressure on her arms released. She clenched her teeth tight, trying hard to breath normally under his weight.

His expression had grown bored again, and he twirled his wand slowly around his fingertips.

"Do you know why you're complete scum Granger?" He didn't wait for an answer, knowing she wasn't going to give him one. "It's because you're a thief. An imposter. You're no better than your filthy, muggle parents."

She bucked against him, anger flaring through her. He jostled a little, his hand coming down and gripping her neck to hold them both still. He sneered down at her.

"The truth hurts Granger," he said this slowly, as if he were trying to make her understand something. "You don't deserve the grades you got at Hogwarts. You don't deserve your magic. You're not worthy of it, and you never will be." He sniffed with indifference. "That's why you try so hard, isn't it Granger? Because you know deep down that you're not good enough for this world. This world will never be your home."

Her knee came up in a desperate attempt to throw him off, hitting him in the back. His fingers gripped tighter onto her neck.

"Say it Granger. Say how unworthy you are," he demanded, his eyes ablaze with anger.

She tried to hold back the gulping sob that threatened to over take her and she shook her head fiercely. His fingers left her neck and she took a large gasp of air before suddenly his wand was pointed at her face.

" _Crucio_!"


	7. Chapter 7

**_Author's note:_**

 **I know this chapter is supposed to be in Draco's POV, since I've been alternating between them through out this whole story, but I thought this chapter worked better from Hermione's POV.**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. Any characters, items or places are of her own creation.**

* * *

It was pain unlike anything she could remember feeling.

In that moment it felt like the blood in her veins were on fire, and like her skin was literally peeling off her body. She couldn't contain the loud scream that ripped from her chest. She knew she was sweating, the beads of sweat that ran down her face burned trails as though they were made of lava.

She almost couldn't believe he was doing this. She couldn't believe that his hate for her was so strong.

She had spent most of her youth denying that he truly hated her, and that she hated him. She just had a strong distaste for him, and he simply must have found her annoying. She always assumed that he hated Harry more than he hated her.

But she was wrong. She had never been more wrong.

He hated her with everything in his being. He hated her simply for being alive; a thought that truly made her feel like dirt.

She almost didn't notice that the spell had stopped because her muscles were still jerking as left over waves of exhaustion and pain hit her. She was gasping for air under Malfoy's crushing weight, shaking and sweating and trying to comprehend what had just happened.

She opened her eyes and she could see him looking down at her. Despite her common sense, a pang of sadness ran through her when she saw the devastated, lost look on his face. It was like he realized that causing her pain wasn't making him feel better, like he had originally thought it would have.

She gritted her teeth and sucked in a gasp of air when he shifted over top of her, his wand raising again and a glare over taking his pale face.

"Feel better?" she used every ounce of will power she had left to hiss the question at him.

Something flickered behind his grey eyes, but it was there and gone before she had a chance to recognize it. And then he was sneering again, jabbing the tip of his wand into her neck.

"You're never going to learn your place, are you Granger?" he asked slowly, his eyes glaring into dangerous slits.

Her body hummed with pain and she pursed her lips into a tight line. For a moment they sat there, staring each other down. Pureblood and mudblood. Dark and light. Death Eater and friend of Harry Potter. Complete opposites who had completely lost themselves to this war. Their war. Not the one that raged through out the whole of the wizarding world, but the war between themselves.

Perhaps, in another world, things could have been different. Isn't that what everyone says? That if situations were different, and blood prejudices didn't exist, that friendships could be born within the most unlikely of people.

But it wasn't another world. Here they lay, in the dirt and leaves, him on top of her with his wand to her neck. They were Malfoy and Granger, Slytherin and Gryffindor, hate and love, and there was nothing that could change that.

"No." she finally said, forcing the word out. "I am just as good as you, Malfoy, perhaps even better. It's _you_ who won't ever learn _your_ place."

The snarl on his face matched that of an angered dog and his hand came back again, slapping her just as hard as the first time.

She blinked in shock again, feeling her dry lips crack and bleed. She licked her lips and swallowed hard at the metallic taste, turning her head to look back at him.

His eyebrows were furrowed in disgust and his hand shot out again. She flinched, waiting for the impact, but it never came. Instead, a finger pressed hard onto her lip and she jumped at the contact, her eyes flashing open to see what he was doing.

He pulled his hand back, looking at the blood smeared on the tip of his pointer finger. Using his thumb, he smeared the blood around, concentrating hard. She stared up at him and she found it was becoming harder and harder to breath the longer he sat on her stomach. She wondered if his plan was to slowly suffocate her.

She watched an array of emotions fly across his face and she clenched her jaw.

"Not so different from your blood, is it Malfoy?"

His eyes flashed to the cut on his hand and suddenly he looked angry. A panicked angry. Like he was gripping at something frantically that was slipping away. He lurched off of her and the air wooshed back into her lungs. She gagged at the sudden intake of air and he grabbed her by her hair with his bloodied hand.

He yanked her to her feet and shoved her away. She stumbled, falling to the ground and he was there again, grabbing her hair and yanking her up just to shove her away again.

"Your blood is different than mine Granger," he said as he reached for her a third time. He yanked her up by the hood of her jacket. "It's dirty," he pulled her face close to his, "vile," he shoved her, "and disgusting."

He stared at her in a crumpled heap by his feet. She tried taking breaths of air but her lungs hurt and she felt tears prick at her eyes. She searched the ground frantically for her wand.

"Just like you." She whispered.

He kicked her and the pain in her side told her he had finally cracked one of her ribs. She whimpered, clutching her side, and then he was there again, pulling her to her feet.

He sneered down at her, and she felt terrified. She was defenseless, useless, and there was nothing she could do. Where was Ron? What would happen to Harry? She had no idea how much time had passed and she began to cry for her friends.

"Please," she whimpered, trying to yank away from his fingers. He sneered, shoving her face away.

She pulled herself to her feet, wincing in pain and taking off at a jog. She didn't hear his feet running after her and she pushed herself faster. She was thinking of Ron, and thinking that he was dead, killed by the other two Death Eaters. She was thinking of Harry, and thinking that he was dead, killed by Voldemort. She was thinking of herself, and of Malfoy, and how tortured he was, and how she might get away but what would be the point?

She faltered and stumbled, but she didn't slow her pace as she hauled herself back up. She was crying steadily now and she willed herself to keep moving. She didn't know where she was going, she knew she wasn't heading in the right direction for Ron, and she also knew that her wand was somewhere back with Malfoy, but she didn't care.

Gasping for air, clutching her side in pain with tears running down her cheeks, she just kept jogging.

She tried to think of something to fight for. Harry had said that what made them stronger than the dark side, what made them stronger than Voldemort, was that they always had something to fight for. Whether it was for Hogwarts, their families, their magic, or each other. But now what did she have?

She choked on a sob and her feet tripped over themselves. She stumbled, catching herself on a tree. She was panting so hard that she almost didn't hear it.

The light rustle of leaves, someone walking, and then a voice quite a ways away, and her blood ran cold before she even recognized the spell.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note:**_

 **The last chapter, I hope you guys have enjoyed this short story!**

* * *

He stared down at her for a long moment.

His wand was clutched tight in his pale fingers, and he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do next.

It was almost like it hadn't actually happened. He was waiting for her to lurch back up again and sneer at him, or spit on him again and struggle for her life. But the longer he stared down at her, the more it became apparent that she was not going to get up.

He pressed the tip of his dress shoe into her shoulder before he pushed, watching as she rolled onto her back. Her bushy mane sprawled out in a fan around her head and her eyes were wide and terrified, forever open. Something inside of him churned uncomfortably and he felt his hand coat in sweat as he rolled his wand numbly in his fingers.

Why didn't he feel any _better_?

Isn't that what he was supposed to be feeling? He had eliminated the target, the threat of his pureblood heritage. Wasn't he supposed to be feeling quite accomplished with himself, proud even, like he had back when he had first caught Potter?

He yanked her wand from his pocket and dropped it in the leaves beside her before he turned, his back stiff, and headed back the way he had come.

It all seemed very surreal. Like he was stuck inside of a dream that was lasting far too long.

When he got back to the camp, he noticed the last two death eaters searching through the trios' belongings. One of them held a long sword in his grasp, testing the weight in his hand as if he knew anything about sword skills at all.

His feet pulled to a stop by the dismantled tent when he caught sight of Weasley's body lying on the ground. He didn't need to roll him over, the amount of blood on the ground was enough of a sign to know that the red head had met the same fate as Granger.

He hesitated only a moment, grinding his teeth together, before he turned towards the two other death eaters.

"Let's go."

They looked up at him before all three of them disappeared without a trace.

* * *

Draco didn't know what to do.

He was trying to force himself to feel the severity of his achievement, as the Dark Lord had put it, but he felt nothing. He felt numb. Killing Granger had not done anything to make him feel better. If anything, it had made him feel worse. He shifted uncomfortably next to his mother, reaching his hand out and touching hers with his fingertips.

She had looked so heartbroken when he had apparated back to the manor and had relayed the news that Granger and Weasley were dead. He wondered briefly if she hated him, though he couldn't quite be sure why she would. He had done his orders, and it wasn't like he had killed a pureblood. Though the Weasley family was pure, they were still considered blood traitors.

Still, the look on his mother's face when he had gone to stand beside her, and the way she had taken a small step away from him, instantly had him feeling like a lost child. He desperately craved for her comfort all of a sudden.

He wanted her to tell him that he had done the right thing, that he had saved their family, and that the lives of the people that had been killed that night meant nothing. He saw the shudder run through her at his touch and panic gripped at the edges of his very being. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle it if she rejected him.

He didn't _understand_. He had done everything right, he had fixed everything, hadn't he?

So why was his mother suddenly so afraid of him? And where was his father? Shouldn't he have been freed by now? Shouldn't he have been allowed to come up and join them upon his son's return to watch the Dark Lord torture Harry Potter? Wasn't everything supposed to be _better_?

His jaw clenched and he tried desperately to understand what this all meant.

The Dark Lord's wand raised and he _crucio_ 'd Potter for the tenth time in the past two hours. The boy was sweating, lying on his side and yelling out in pain.

One of the death eaters that had been on Draco's team bravely- or foolishly- stepped forward from the crowd. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Draco when he asked, "My son.. is he free to go now?"

The Dark Lord turned on a sharp pivot to look at who had addressed him. He stared the man down for a long moment before a devious, disturbing smile overtook his snake like features.

"Ah, your son, Billius. The one who attempted to leave my ranks and give away my location to the Ministry?" his taunting tone was more startling than if he had been yelling, and the death eater faltered slightly.

"He didn't mean it, sir, of course not... and you said that should I help in capturing the boy-"

The Dark Lord raised his wand without a word and the flash of green that flew from his wand instantly sent Draco tumbling back into the forest with Granger. He shuddered as he watched the death eater fall to the floor, lifeless and unmoving.

His mother's hand reached out and took a hold of his fingers and he turned to look at her in surprise. He hadn't even noticed that the tears had formed in his eyes until she whispered to him, "Wipe your eyes Draco.. Don't let him see you."

He reached a hand up quickly and brushed away the tears, unsettled by his own actions.

It was then that he suddenly understood everything. It was like the whole world flipped upside down, lurched and shifted, and then became still with realization and understanding.

Killing Granger did not make him better than her. On the contrary, he was so below her that it was astonishing he hadn't realized it sooner. Though her blood was tainted with non-magical traces, she was pure and honest and a good person. She was smart and courageous and everything a pureblood should hope to be.

As for his standings with the Dark Lord, well, nobody was safe in that regard. It didn't matter how many 'good' deeds you did, one false move and he would kill you without a second thought.

It was in that moment that he knew he would probably never see his father again. It was in that moment he began to question everything he had believed to be true, since the time he had been born into the life of a pureblood.

Wrong. It was all _wrong_.

He clenched his teeth together, his fingers gripping tighter to his mother's hand.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, knowing that no matter what he said, no matter what he did, nothing would ever be okay for them. They would forever be stuck under the Dark Lord's rule, until the day he grew tired of them and killed them. And Draco would forever be filled with bitterness and regret for the way he had been manipulated all of his life.

Draco closed his eyes and he felt the lone tear that slipped down his cheek.

And he hated himself.


	9. The End Or Is It?

Hey guys! I hope all of you have enjoyed my short story of The Snatcher!

If you're interesting in seeing more, **I have recently just started the Sequel titled "The Resistance"**! The story will be posted on my profile, go ahead and give it a look! Your enthusiasm with this short story (which had intended to be just that- a short story) has inspired me to continue writing it.

 **The sequel** features our main protagonist **Draco Malfoy** , as he lives in the almost post-apocalyptic world that Lord Voldemort has created in his quest for power. With his guilt for what he had done to Hermione and her friends forever with him, Draco begins to come to terms with the fact that this is not the way the world is supposed to be, and he starts to realize that there is indeed something worth fighting for.

With the help of **Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode** , and a **courageous muggleborn slave** , Draco begins the rebellion to overthrow the dark side and save his conscious. _But will it be enough?_

 **Read the Sequel to find out more!**


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